The Budapest Theory
by Silver lily 010
Summary: What was the mysterious hinted at Budapest story? This is what I thought went down in Budapest and how both our cocky hero and wayward assassin wind up as part of The Avengers. I'm sorry I have to !SPOILERS! spoil this but he doesn't die. I got a complaint about that and felt others might be bothered by my not notifying you guys.
1. Well Hello There

"Aren't assassins supposed to be quiet?" I sighed. Clearly aware she was right behind me. _That went smoothly Barton. Genius._

"No, they're supposed to be invisible and silent, which makes me question exactly what and who you are. Kak, naprimer durak sdelat' eto tak daleko? (Let me translate that for you. She pretty much just asked how an idiot like me made it this far). Because clearly neither of these applies to you," a sarcastic female voice replied. It was barely a whisper, but I had been following that whisper long enough I could hear it from a mile and a half away.

"Usually I am, but obviously I was a little off my game this time," I snarked back. Why I was being sarcastic I had no idea. Just felt like my best go at the moment.

"I am insulted. Why let your game down? Am I weak prey to you? Did you not know I am a world renowned assassin? Or was your informant lacking as well?" too coy… she was clearly looking to get me to slip up about SHIELD. Silly girlie, I have played this game a couple times too.

"If you are looking for a hiring agent or assistant of some sort you are digging a hole in an empty field. I do all my own research and even if you tried you couldn't get me to talk about my boss. I would rather face you, than his… Fury," I said lazily as I began moving my bow back from the window. _Might as well face her than her decoy._

"Ah Ah, put that bow away. You won't like the consequences if you don't," she warned. For some silly reason I just coolly kept moving. Almost like I thought me remaining totally chill would off set her. Sometimes I really am a durak (fool).

"Or what? You'll shoot me? That would be the," I counted on my fingers to be blunt to her, it had nothing to do with me actually needing to count, "sixth time this year. It doesn't scare me that much anymore. You been shot once, you been shot a billion times," I remarked.

"Plus, why should I? You dodged my shot yesterday with such ease, why not twice just to show off?" I taunted and could almost see her freeze for a second. So she didn't know it was me who shot the arrow last night. Maybe I actually did graze her.

"Because I do not want to waste the energy and effort uselessly," came a short reply.

"Ah,"

The ensuing silence seemed to last ages before she finally replied.

"Well, shall we get this over with Mr. Barton?" she said. I sensed absolutely no emotion. She was totally business now.

"I'd rather continue on with our awkward banter and silences but if you insist…" I knew from that moment on that this fight was going to seriously hurt. How had I gotten myself this far in over my head?

Typical Clint Barton moment.

"As do I, but I am afraid we have run out of time. I have a job to finish and you have a hospital to visit," and with that reply she was no longer even business, just, dead gone empty words. An act meant to subdue me before she strikes. Just like with a proper black widow.

I immediately went into defensive and managed to dodge the foot aimed at the left side of my temple. I flipped around just in time to catch the sliver of darker black dart off to my right. I centered in and found that black again and loosed the arrow just in time to catch the black before the fist collided with my chin. I took the hit as well as I could and found it was slightly shocking. She hit hard for being so small. _Go figure._

I blocked just in time to catch the foot to my ribs and bow down before the jab to my face. She was so freaking fast! Suddenly she was on top of me pounding down on my ribs and face. I couldn't protect both and both hurt like hell to not cover. She hit with such a brute force but no matter how hard I fought she would always land just about every other hit on me. Despite how hard she could hit it was balanced by such a profound grace. Her movements were smooth and graceful but carried this untapped ferocity. It actually sort of scared me. Only sort of.

I waited for her to hit to my right and quickly threw myself up onto my feet knocking her back down. She was light weight. I was built like a freaking brick house. She could hit me all day with her little fists and I would still stand up. Mostly, at least I was able to stand up enough to catch her with my left foot to her ribs and a jab to the nose before she disappeared on me again.

I may have had taken quite the beating but I knew I had hit her good and hard at least once. I may not be graceful but I hit like a freaking sledge hammer. I know I had hit her once on her left shoulder then her right collar bone, soon after the left knee and her jaw. Add the two hits when I knocked her down and I knew at the least she wasn't feeling all warm and fuzzy.

Then I messed up, really, really messed up bad.

I went in for a strike to the left shoulder again and immediately knew it was a serious mistake. The second her small white hand found my elbow I knew I was done. I felt the crack as she simultaneously fractured my elbow and dislocated my shoulder. Not a second later her knee connected with mine and the sickening pop and tearing sound that followed told me it was torn and dislocated. A blow to the left side of my head and I was down on the ground. I found myself instantly and completely immobilized the whole right side of my body. I was dazed by the hit to my temple and in a lot of pain. I couldn't see very clearly nor could I move either of my right limbs. Not at all, which told me she also dislocated my right leg from it's socket. _Well, that hadn't gone as planned now had it?_

I did a quick over view of all the damage done. My right shoulder, knee, and hip were officially dislocated. My right elbow and collar bone were fractured and the knee had broken the skin and was bleeding profusely. My ACL and PCL were definitely shot and I was sure I had a concussion from the blow she landed to my head. Even though I was dazed I knew I had to focus. I needed to survive right now. I couldn't fight which meant I needed to just get out alive. I tried as hard as I could to focus in on that separate darker kind of black one more time. I caught a shift to my left. Then it centered in what I perceived as the center of my view. It was a little bouncy and had a clear limp which meant I had caught her good at least once. Suddenly the figure jerked quick to my right. The world slowed and I felt her speed as she launched forward towards me despite how I couldn't see her. I bent my good knee and leaned in towards my right now matter how much it hurt. I pushed off as hard as my body could and felt myself spin. The kick would have landed right in the middle of her stomach. I sensed her stutter for just a moment before her tiny hands of doom found my good ankle midair. She used my forward momentum to throw me into the nearest wall. I was surprised. She clearly had not expected that last attack, but was quick enough in mind and in body to counter it. My face hit the wall first. Then the rest of my damaged side connected.

To the end of my days I swore nothing would ever hurt that bad.

I instantly fell on to my belly and despite my efforts to raise my body even on my good side I could not even manage to get off the ground. I was also now unable to see out of my right eye and clearly at least one rib was fractured of completely broken.

"I… refuse… to lay down… to a-… anyone… I… am… th… I… shield…" and now I was spilling nonsense. Wonderful. I used my left wrist to hold my head up high enough to look and see if I could spot my oncoming doom.

That was when she grabbed me by my chin (my chin folks. Ever been picked up by your chin? It sucks. Let me tell you.) and slammed me, once again, into the wall, this time with her face right in front of mine.

"No one has ever gotten the drop on me. Not. Ever," there was only vicious hatred in her voice now. No play, no business, no emptiness, only anger, sheer ravaging anger.

And it was her anger that made me meet her eyes. The first thing I noticed was the firey red hair. It was like waves of rose petals drifting off of her face. Clearly my trip to japan last month was still affecting me. Her skin was white as a sheet and clean as porcelain. But her eyes. Her eyes held no curiosity, warmth or memories. They were such a beautiful shade of green brown. Like the moss back home. They were as wondrous as the shells on a beach, but just as lifeless and thrown away. Even shells told more stories and sang happier songs than these eyes.

I felt cold metal drift over my skin but didn't care to look down. I knew it was a blade. It didn't even matter what kind. I just kept watching those eyes. We're they really so dead? Or did they have a story held in there somewhere?

"What a way to go eh? I figured it would be at home in bed with the wife. But go figure it's completely alone in an empty room with a stranger and a knife. We all have to go at some point don't we?" I sighed out. My head hung down and my chin relaxed down on to the flat of the blade.

Her expression never lost its' fury. I felt a drop on my broken collar bone and immediately knew it was blood. Whether it was from the knife at my throat or one of the many injuries I had sustained I knew it was bad news. When I looked up at her again I knew where the drop had come from. It was the blade. And she hadn't even faltered, sign of a true pure blooded killer. I felt kind of honoured.

Only kind of though.

I felt her hand grasping and squeezing at my chin. With my good left hand I reached up and grabbed her wrist. She didn't even startle.

"Just do it quickly okay?" I asked.

"Why?" she replied sharply.

"Because I want to have a clean cut so when they have my funeral it can be an open casket. I want the kids back in my home town to see their hero. I was hoping to tell them I died of old age but right about now dying to protect them will have to do. I wouldn't want to crush their little hopes and dreams," I replied softly.

"It's because of dreamers like them that "heroes" like you die," she snarls. It sounds almost feral. Was that a soft spot?

"And it's because of dreamers like them that we live too," I respond dreamily. I was feeling rather tired.

"Well today, they were the reason the hero died,"

Light burst from the back of my mind. It was followed instantly by an eternal blackness.

"This is how a hero dies. Alone, with no one to save you. Does that really mean you were even a hero at all?" The voice echoed around in my mind as I felt consciousness fading away. There was a moment when I could see my wife and kids. I wanted to say I was sorry. Sorry for failing to come home this time. I felt the last of me fade away with the hope that I had been a good enough hero for them while I could.


	2. Surprise Surprise!

I walked through the doors of The Organization, and as I always did, I immediately went into the assignments wing. The walls were brown and pale blue. The doors were solid oak and were strong enough to withstand a small explosion without disturbance. We learned that one when a young trainee on her first ever job took the wrong file. It didn't matter that she didn't do it on purpose and put it back without reading it. It was a huge no no.

At first the girl believed she had not been caught. It was the day my training group went in the get our first assignments. That's when she found out that they had known the whole time. The Baroness was taking us to our door then the girl returned from her assignment.

"Ah look. A returnee! Come here" said the Baroness. The girl, of course, followed orders. You always listen to the Baronesses. Their word was truly law here and no one in their right mind would defy them or lie to them.

"This returnee did very well on her latest job. We are going to have to congratulate her aren't we?" the Baroness said. No one moved a muscle. No one ever got complimented. We all knew something was off.

"Well go on. Clap!" she ordered. We clapped. It was lifeless pity applause. Everyone in that room felt the tension. I could have torn it with my hands. I could feel it winding around me and the other girls.

"But you see, she made one little mistake," came the cold voice Baronesses usually used.

And then the explosion happened. When the smoke cleared the girl was against one of the doors. There was a huge pool of blood behind her, but she was alive and breathing. I couldn't see the wound.

"She took the wrong file on accident and replaced it hoping we wouldn't notice. We take our assignments very seriously. Information is extremely sensitive. I wanted to use her as an example for you young ladies," the temperature in the room dropped with every word that drifted from the Baroness' lips.

A wall on the left side of the door collapsed. Yet the door stood on.

The girl was trembling and barely holding her body up. At the time I wondered at why she did not lay down, but now I know it is because laying down shows weakness and lack of grace. You did not do anything in the place unless it was done with grace. You ate with grace, walked with grace. We lived and breathed graceful lives. Her breathing had no grace to it.

Would the Baroness punish her further? I never found out. After that day no one ever saw her again. Rumor said she wound up as one of the final tests. Another one said she was locked up in some secret basement. But no one found out for real what happened to her after the medics carried her out of the hall.

"Now, go clean yourselves up. A woman always looks clean and proper. We are never untidy. Yes?" her voice was light and motherly again. As if she hadn't just almost killed a girl.

"Yes, ma'am," we responded simultaneously.

For a long time we had a lot of questions. We had no idea how the explosive had hit her or where it had come from. We were very in the dark, and extremely terrified of facing the same wrath.

But one of the questions we did eventually get answered was how the Baroness had caused the minor explosion. Tiny explosive darts shot from a wrist rocket. Go figure no one saw it. That's how I know the Baroness' are loaded with weapons no one can see, which is why no one has ever stood up to one, let alone made a move on one.

One of the lessons we were taught from the very beginning was you never made a mistake or faltered. If you plan to do something you do it one hundred percent and perfectly or you didn't do it at all.

So why had I faltered?

How had I made the mistake of letting him find me and track me? Where had I gone wrong? What happened inside my mind that LET me mess up that bad?

I opened the giant oak door and entered silently.

"Welcome," sounded the Baroness' voice. It was light and warm, which meant she either knew everything (98% likely) or she hadn't heard yet (2% likely).

"It is done ma'am," I reply dryly.

"I know. Clever to use a direct injection of polyforamine," she applauds softly on the edge of her desk. She knew everything and I was in deep trouble. If I walked away from this with only bruises, I would be lucky. My Baroness always knew. Others may be light and be "unaware" or might really not know. Not mine. She always knew. Whether she was told or not didn't matter. She just knew.

"Thank you ma'am," remain. Emotionless, we never do anything with emotion. _So why did I speak and act with anger when it came to him?_

"But I hear there was a complication," her voice was still light as air.

"Yes ma'am," I was so dead. The fact that she was asking me what happened instead of just delivering the punishment meant what I had done was worthy of deletion. I almost shivered.

Almost.

"Explain to me where you… let this complication happen," her voice was as soft and safe as a warm summer's day. It was as fake as the flowers in the dance hall, yet still more deadly. Nothing was as deadly as a Baroness.

"I covered my tail and cleaned the trail as best as one could with such a public and well known target ma'am He was clearly professional," I reported.

Wrong answer blared loud and clear in my ears as I felt the bamboo stick connect with my face. I immediately felt the welt swell and begin to bruise. I felt the sting clear down into my neck. I was being retaught. This wasn't even my punishment. But compared to what I faced in this room. Punishment would be light.

"No, you clearly did not cover as well as you should have. Else he would not have found you," she replied softly. It sounded as though she were a grandmother chastising a child for leaving the peanut butter out after making lunch.

"Yes ma'am," I repeated as emotionlessly as I could.

"You also forgot to explain to me why you let him distract you from the target," her voice had gained a slight edge.

"Always take out any other operatives with their eyes on the target ma'am," my words were met with another strike from the stick. This time it was to my left side and left a split in the skin. It was small enough it would not scar. The Baronesses never left scars on their girls. Else it would cost money to get us repaired. They would not waste a dime on us unless it made us a better killer. Weapons? Yes. Training? Yes. Surgery? None other than one.

"He was clearly not after the target, do not play the fool. You were trained better than that. You are not lying to me, are you?" she seemed to be glaring into my soul as she walked around the desk to my side. Her voice was now a razor in sound form. If I slipped up now she would cut me down like a failed project. I would be even less than the expendable pawn that I am now and even easier to be rid of.

"No ma'am," I had to remain cold. If I even faltered in the least bit I would be dead in an instant.

"Then it seems you have made a miscalculation. What do you think should be your punishment?" her voice was darker than the night sky and deadly as lightning. Only a rare few survived this stage.

"Deletion, ma'am,"

"Oh but that would be all too easy for you, yes?" her voice had reached the eye of the storm moment. It was a very deadly calm.

"Yes ma'am," I kept telling myself to keep it short. If I kept it short my punishment would be easier. Or at least I hoped it would. I had never made such a mistake as this before. And I had never heard of anyone doing something this foolish so I had no idea how this would end.

"What do you say to three days on the roof?" the grandmotherly affection had lifted into her voice again.

"Perfect as always ma'am,"

"Good, your punishment will begin tomorrow at oh one hundred. You know how hard I have strived to hone you as the perfect weapon. How could I have failed?" she asks. It was on to the retraining process. Conditioning, Remembering, and Reeducating. These were the three words that every single member who had ever made a mistake (so every girl in the whole building at some point or another) knew by heart. This sentence was conditioning, the art of making me feel like the failure and the one at fault, which I was.

"It is I who have failed you ma'am," I repeated the line from heart.

"Remind me, what is our saying here? Could you repeat it for me?" this was Remembering.

"Cleanliness and timeliness are the keys to successfulness ma'am." Say it with pride. Always say the chant with pride. It is the way of life here.

"Explain to me how you missed successfulness then. Start with timeliness," this is the reason we remember these steps so well. This is the Reeducation stage.

"I did not take care of the clients wishes in time nor was I timely in my manor ma'am," I dare not move at this point. I was so full of fear of that stick in her hand that I didn't even blink.

"And cleanliness?" Her words were hard now.

"I let the other operative-" my voice cracked and broke as the stick crashed against the back of my knees. No matter how I tried I failed to catch myself as I collapsed to the ground. I felt the ground rise up and hit me almost as hard as The Baroness. But what she didn't know was how it had truly hurt. His arrow had caught me in the calf. The wound was still healing and had cost me dearly when it came to finishing the job. It was why I was late finishing it in the first place. I couldn't let the target see me limp or he would start asking questions.

"Stupid girl. We never let anyone do anything that is not in the best interests of The Organization," her voice found me through the fog of pain like a hawks shrieks.

"Yes ma'am," I managed to stutter out. My voice is no longer clear and concise. It wobbles. My left cheek had gone numb and it was now making it hard to articulate as nicely as would be proper in front of a Baroness. My sentence sounded more like Yesh mam. I had never felt so low in my life. I could not even speak.

"You are going to be taken to the hospital wing," she knocked on the wall and two medics came into the room. "they will clean you up enough that you can begin your three days on the roof," her voice has returned to the calm state. The two medics picked me up and slid me onto one of the med bays rolling beds. It smelled like bleach and cloth detergent.

As they wheeled me out of the room The Baroness leaned down next to me and whispered in my ear "Your next mission is to finish what you started girl," her voice was deadly. It left my ear hot.

"Yes… ma-… ma'am," I squeezed out. She knew I had left him alive. And now, I had to kill him.


	3. Now it's my turn

I barely remembered the surgery, nor the skin graph, but when I woke up I could feel all they had done. I was all wrapped up and I had stitches everywhere. But after a couple months of rehab I was up and running. Well, more or less.

"Roll, your, foot, out," the SHIELD physician chided.

"I am," she looked at me with a nonplused expression.

"I'm trying to at least," I tried. She didn't want to believe me, but after two months of extreme rehab she knew just how bad I wanted to get back in the game. I truly had tried, so hard that I had completely healed just about everything. I had regained 90% of my original range of motion in my knee and hip. My concussion was gone within a day or two after reaching the hospital. I had worked hardest on my shoulder though, and it had finally paid off. I tested out with 100% range of motion growth and now my aim was stronger and clearer. I originally could shoot pretty well, but now, I had extreme range of motion and zero knock back effects when shooting. My elbow could withstand just about any bow strength. My other arm had lagged behind a little but with some weight training it was pulling its own now too. I could bench 300 pounds and run a marathon in under 12 hours.

But all of this training wasn't for nothing. I had a goal. Next time I found her, she would be the one helpless. I would ever let someone get so close ever again. My job was to protect people, not lay their lifeless with the enemy almost unharmed. When I had gone through the fight with her I knew I had hit her by the limp I witnessed (thank you awesome eyesight). Turns out I had caught her on the calf with the arrow I released before the whole ordeal. From that I got a small blood sample. It was barely enough but I was able to figure out who she was. Her name was Natasha Romanoff and she had been volunteered up to a group called The Organization that trained assassins. But she was unlike all the others I had seen from this group. She hunted people, played with them and their minds. It was like some kind of game she enjoyed. All the other girls had simply hit their target without them ever knowing they were ever there. Natasha would make herself very much of a public part of the background. She would get in close and strike like a snake under their noses. This is why I found her hunting a specific member of the British Parliament. And now from what Fury has told me she has a job in Budapest. It seemed they didn't mind the distance between kill sites since the one where she beat the living snot out of me was in Madrid. Now she was taking on a multibillionaire who had upset The Organization. Our inside guy, after being beaten and left to die in the winter chill of the Russian wastelands, managed to report she hadn't been told of her mission yet.

This news sort of caught me off guard. Not going to lie but from what I had seen this organization never waited. They were not patient, their girls were. They would send the girl immediately and then expect the girl to get it over with in a "timely nature". It seems Natasha was a repeat offender of taking her time on jobs. Having fun with them. The only reason The Organization hadn't "terminated her position" was because it brought in contacts for them. But it seems they had gotten rather upset with her recently. They had beaten her down and left her alone on one of the roofs for three days with no food or clothing. She was given one slice of bread and a glass of water each day and told to "make it last girl. Else we will just leave you up here longer."

When I found that out I suddenly felt pity. I knew the reason they were upset was because she had left me alive when she could have very well killed me. In a sense I owed her, and that bothered me. It never sits well when, by sparing someone's life, you are in turn beaten and left to freeze to death.

There had been no news if further punishment had been added, or worse, if she hadn't made it through the original punishment. It had been two months and from what I heard from our guy, their punishments were rather… brutal. I shuddered at the thought of dying at their hands. It made her beating seem almost kind.

"Are you cold?" the physician asked.

"Nah, just a drop of sweat went down my back," I replied as I trekked on.

"Bull. You haven't been running more than 15 minutes. Pick it up bird boy," she taunted and for a minute I imagined that it was something Natasha would have said. I wondered how hard they had trained her. How long had it taken for her to get that skilled and to refine that skill so well? My recent growth in power, speed, and durability were considered amazing by medical terms. So what was she to them? A miracle? When I, in a drugged haze mind you, explained how she had fought, the nurses they told me the concussion had distorted my memory. And when I told Mrs. Physician lady she said it was impossible for someone to be so graceful and powerful. They would have to be a god to be that good. _Then how had she been so good?_ I had been pondering this question for a while and found I never got anywhere.

 _BZZZZZZ_

 _BZZZZZZ_

"Ma'am, that's my phone buzzing," I looked at her quizzically.

"Like I'm going to stop you," she said waving me off.

When I got off the tread mill my phone stopped. Whatever it had been I missed it. I pulled out my phone and looked at the number. Registered restriction. It was my wife! I hurried and called her back. It had been too long since I had heard her voice, even though that was just last night. That might explain why I tapped my foot with impatience for her to answer.

"Clint?" her voice was just as wonderful as ever!

"Hi honey! Yes, it's me. How are the kids? How are you? What have you done today?" it all spilled out of my mouth like water from as spout. I sounded like a babbling idiot. Thank god the physician lady was off doing something in the distance. I watched her and took on a casual stance. People didn't know about my family and I had to be careful to keep it that way.

"Hahahaha, slow down there Mr. Barton. You're going to tear something!" her laughter made butterflies happen in my stomach. I loved this woman so much.

"Okay, well let's start with the basics. How are you?" I asked.

"No different from last night or the past few months my dear. Just happy you're doing well. I still wish you could come home but I know how much finding her means to you," she replied.

"You know that I'm finding her because she is too good of an operative to let walk around doing whatever this murderous group wants. Right?" as I asked this I watched the Physician and noticed something strange. She was talking to someone. Not that her talking to someone was strange, but that she seemed petrified.

"Everyone is doing well love. Oh lord your eldest daughter just spilled everywhere I have to go. I will call you tonight okay?" my wife's voice brought me back to the conversation.

"Thank god I am here then. I love you and will talk to you later. Bye," I said and quickly hung up. I fully intended to walk up to the physician and ask a whole bunch of blunt questions but decided it was better to slip behind a door and listen. Call it instinct but for some reason I knew I wanted to hear this.

"How is he?" the voice was barely a hiss. I couldn't make out a gender or accent of any kind.

"Doing well ma'am," the physician responded. Her voice trembled as though she were about to cry.

"Is he healed enough yet for what I asked for?" the voice whispered again, this time with a darker demeanor. What did this stranger want?

"Not yet ma'am," Mrs. Physician cringed as the words came out. Clearly this is not what the mystery person wanted to hear.

"This is not the news I was hoping for. Alas, it seems I will have to be patient. Yes?" the voice was now dripping with sarcasm and definitely female. And then I saw it, out of the corner of the hat. One single tiny clump of strands dangled gently out of the hat. They were a bright, fiery shade of red.

"HEY!" I called as I dashed around the corner. But by the time I reached the physician Natasha was gone. Probably so long gone I was S.O.L. to find her. Not without more stamina built up. I was worn out from my exercises.

"Where did she go?! How long has she been following my progress?" I turned and berated the physician with questions. Her only response was to break into sobs and crash to the ground.

"Listen, you need to tell me what you know. I can stop whatever she will do to you or your family, but first you have to tell me what you know!" I shook her and tried to rattle her out of her sobs but gained no ground until finally another lady, the desk woman, came back and led me to a room where I could lay down the physician.

"She has been coming around since about three or so weeks after you joined. At first she threatened us and told us she would kill us and our families if you didn't survive. She never let us know who she was or why she cared. Only that you had to be able to heal fully or we would never see another day. She watched our progress with every visit. Even going through the effort to disguise herself well enough to be able to stand in the waiting room during your surgeries. At times she seemed like she cared about your wellbeing, other times, it felt as though she was only preparing you to kill you. We fought over how to treat you and what way to do it best. Ms. Carlston felt her life and children were the most at stake so she took the lead as your head physician. She put herself at risk the most out of all of us." The woman spoke this with such vigor, yet under it was a fear, a fear that only a woman with children and a husband would know.

"She won't hurt your families. I know well enough she doesn't care to kill innocent people unless she has to or is ordered to. You will all be fine. Do you know anything about where she would be for me to find her?" I asked the woman.

"You were supposed to be sent to a certain place after we dubbed you back to your best. I'm afraid I can't tell you because no one ever told me. Only Mrs. Carlston knows. And as you can see, we aren't going to get much out of her for now," she responded.

I wasn't taking no for an answer. I bent down next to the whimpering woman lying on the table.

"Listen, you need to tell me where I am supposed to meet the woman with the red hair. It is for the good of every single person on this planet that I meet her. Do you understand?" I stared deep into her eyes and held her still. She looked at me and only terror seemed to fill her eyes.

"You have to tell me or else something bad may happen," I said to her and her eyes immediately got a lot wider. They were like dinner plates now.

"In the Sharon Gardens part of the Kensico Cemetery," the woman managed to tremble out.

"I will go there and end this. Your family will be safe. I promise," I swore this to the woman and to myself. Natasha wasn't going to be doing any more killing for The Organization. She was going to be doing killing for SHIELD.

I told myself this as I left the hospital. But could I do it?


End file.
